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“It’s in the trunk.” I gesture to the parking lot and stand.
“Well then, let me just finish this delicious pie.” He continues to eat, finishing the thick slice in three huge bites before swallowing his coffee, wiping his mouth and standing.
I was right, he’s tall, and definitely skinny. I note the pallor to his skin, the shadows under his eyes. I know that look. Mom had it throughout her cancer diagnosis and treatment. I wonder if Lucky’s sick. If he is, does he know it? Not that I care. I just need one thing from him before I kill him. Because I plan on doing the killing myself. I won’t allow Blue to soil her hands with this low-life’s blood. First, though, I need to know who pulled those strings that got him out of prison. I assume Girard but it could be Councilor Augustus. At this point, I can see him getting Lucky out of prison to get the files back. I assume he’d have him killed afterwards. He wouldn’t want to leave anyone who knows what he’s done alive.
Lucky pats his pockets. “Shoot. Fresh out of cash. You don’t mind, do you?”
This man is a criminal. I couldn’t actually expect him to pay his own tab. I take out my wallet and drop a twenty-dollar bill on the table. It should cover coffee, pie and a generous tip for having to put up with this dirtbag.
“Why thank you. Lead the way, handsome,” he says, mimicking the waitress who is watching us.
I walk ahead of him but when we get to the door, I open it and gesture for him to go ahead. He does. I don’t want this man at my back.
“Who helped you get out of prison?” I ask as we cross the lot to my SUV.
“I saw you didn’t come alone. You hurt me, my friend will hurt you,” he says, ignoring my question.
“I doubt that.” We get to the SUV and Dex climbs out, opens the trunk. He glances around, subtly nods to me. “Who. Helped. You?” I ask once we reach the SUV.
Lucky glimpses his laptop, eyes Dex, then turns back to me with a grin on his face. “I’m a dead man either way but I will die knowing my little girl will be joining me soon in Hell.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, suddenly feeling like I’ve made a mistake, like I’ve missed something. I grip his collar, shove him backward so the back of his head slams against the open trunk of SUV. “Who the fuck sent you?”
“The Honorable Councilor Lucius Augustus,” he says with a bad British accent. “His henchmen drove off when you and your buddy got here. Idiot.” He shakes his head.
I’m slow to understand. Slow for my brain to process because it does so in degrees. The thought of Blue waiting for me in the Bishop house, it feels like a punch to the gut, like all the air has been sucked from my lungs. Even if the men I sent got there, they won’t stand a chance against Augustus.
I fucked up.
I fucked up. Again.
22
BLUE
Itext Rudy as soon as Zeke leaves and he assures me Wren is fine. She’s napping. No one has tried to visit her. He also mentions there seems to be more activity with the guards Zeke placed at the center.
I can’t sit still and find myself pacing. It’ll take a few hours for him to get back. The drive round trip is over an hour as it is. When, about twenty minutes later, I hear a car coming up the drive, I rush to the front door. I pull it open, not sure what I’m expecting. Maybe Jericho with news. Two vehicles come into view. The first is a Rolls Royce, the second a van with dark windows. They’re driving slowly up toward the house.
Jericho has a Rolls Royce. Is it his? I don’t recognize the driver and I can’t see the one in the van. It’s not Dex, but that doesn’t mean anything. It could be the guards Zeke said he’d send.
The vehicles come to a stop and the driver of the first climbs out to open the back door.
My heart races. Something’s wrong. It’s not Jericho. Jericho wouldn’t remain in the back seat waiting for someone to open his door. The passenger side door opens as does the one behind that and two men in dark suits step out while six men climb out of the van. They’re all dressed in identical suits. It’s when I see the blond head of the man who is being driven that my brain puts two and two together, remembering the guards from the night of the IVI charity event. Vaguely, I remember the faces of the Councilors of The Tribunal. I’d noted the cane one had held in his hand as he’d crossed the ballroom.
This is him. The Councilor with the cane.
And when he looks up at the house and his cool blue gaze lands on mine, I slam the door shut, hear the lock engage and run into the study. The locked door won’t keep them out for long. I have no doubt they’ll break it down to get inside. I hear their heavy steps, the thud of the cane, as they ascend the stairs. The doorbell rings even as I hear the beep before the door unlocks. How the hell do they know the code to open the fucking door?
“Knock-knock,” someone, I guess Councilor Augustus, says in a mocking cheerful tone. “Anyone home?”
Shit.
I open the drawer where I saw Zeke drop the flash drive and Antoine Girard’s card. I take both and look around, panicked. I need to hide it because those men he brought aren’t here for his personal security. They’re here to search the house. The desk will be the first place they’ll look and no way I can keep it on me. I’m sure they’ll search me.
Footsteps approach. “Come out come out wherever you are,” he calls and it’s more terrifying for the game he’s making of it.
I hurry to the fireplace and drop both the flash drive and the card into the back corner, covering them with a half-burnt log and ash. I straighten just in time, wiping my hands on the backs of my jeans as Councilor Augustus knocks his cane twice against the door to announce his arrival.
